That Dance
by J.W.Fathom
Summary: My first Oneshot, Doctor Who fic, and "song fic" (which I may have not done properly because I'm not sure how that works) all rolled into one! A story of Rose and Nine during one of their adventures "The Doctor Dances." At the end I have the lyrics to the song if no one knows it...Enjoy!


**Author's Note: Hello! I don't own these guys, just some of the idea. I'm not sure how a "song fic" is s'pose to go, but I heard a song on the radio and a story popped into my brain…so here's my try at it. Enjoy!**

**Song: Let's Dance by David Bowie**

* * *

Honestly I used to dance all the time. I had fun at school dances in my younger years; I would flirt with the boys and laugh with the girls and dance until I was soaked with sweat. On the rare occasion of cleaning my room the radio would be on and my feet would move about in rhythmic steps and I swayed my hips side to side. I enjoyed dancing with my mum around the tree while we threw garland on the branches and hung ornaments, blaring Christmas music in the living room. I had a great time in the kitchen with the radio, dancing around while the third batch of biscuits started baking, snatching the occasional cookie from the freshest pile on the counter.

Even when I had a shit job at the shop in town and had little to look forward to…I still had music to dance to. I had myself convinced I could keep working at that shop, with the music playing lightly all day long, and just dance my way through life until something better came along. If anything better came along that is. And then something did come along. It was absolutely mad but unbelievably brilliant and I didn't even have to dance my way through that impossible door…I just ran.

After that I didn't think about dancing much. Sometimes I would hum a little tune and bob my head, but I didn't need to dance and escape, because I was already escaping. I ran and hid if he said to, and he always ran with me and beside me he hid, not ever too far away. And when I fell, he was right there, letting me to fall into his arms.

But there was one time when we had no place to run, and there we were in our hiding place that was being breached, and I felt like dancing again. I knew it was my nerves, a creeping fear, that made me want to dance. I turned on the radio hesitantly and allowed the music to fill the room. I swayed a little, getting the feel of the one thing I used to do so often. I turned to him with a shy smile and asked if he danced. He tried to turn me down, but I guess the look on my face made him reconsider.

I'm sure it was only his way of reassuring me we weren't going to die in the middle of a blitz, but sometimes I like to think it was him wanting to dance with me. It wasn't a fast number, not really; he held my hand and placed his other on my hip and stepped around the room lightly. I could tell he used to dance, like how I often swayed around to a good tune, but he told me he didn't dance much. Immediately I knew it wasn't for the same reason I didn't; I stopped dancing because I had found something better…perhaps he had stopped dancing because it was too painful.

That night I closed my eyes and listened to the song on the radio. The night was full of lights and planes and bombs, but if I focused enough, I could block out those noises and pretend it was the moonlight shining down on us and a melody carrying us away. A silly thought drifted through my head, I remember, thinking my outfit was far from the era or the type of music playing. Instead, I thought of flashy red heels with a black classy number and a long red coat to match the clutch I would have carried.

I held a little tighter to him, moving closer to rest my cheek on his shoulder, and inhaled the scent of his leather jacket he always wore. He didn't have a smell, not really; it was the air about him, and the small gestures that made him. But that night he did have scent. If security, calmness, reassurance, and a dash of sympathy mixed together did not have a sniff trait, it did then. I was glad to have him hold me and dance; swaying slightly and turning slowly, as if time was slowing down and prolonging our end. Maybe he felt that way too, because he had gripped my hand a bit tighter and pulled me that much closer to him.

But we escaped. It was an impossible escape, but it was lovely in its own way. I felt better after that dance, not because I had survived that trap, but because I had danced with a man who seemed to have liked dancing with me. That moment in that room had been the best moment of my life in a long time, if ever, and the only competition would be the second time I danced with him once we were safely out of 1940.

Honestly I used to dance all the time. I don't anymore. I enjoy remembering the times I lost myself in dancing; twirling around, laughing and smiling, swaying to music…there was no doubt I had many memories. But I don't dance anymore because that man is gone. Never again will I dance with him, nor will I smell that sense of security with the possible sympathy I may not live as long as he had hoped for me. I don't mind watching others cut a rug across the dance floor, but I always decline if someone asks.

Instead I delve in my past and remember those times I had with that impossible man. We never danced again, but in a way I find it's better that way. I'm sure if I was to ask him he would have danced with me again, but we had more fun running and hiding. It's funny because when we ran and hid it wasn't out of fear, it was a thrill…but in that moment when I asked him to dance it was truly my fear of dying. And I think he knew that and I can only thank him over and over in my mind for helping me. He helped me through so much, and gave me and shown me so much. Sometimes I like to think, just for a second, when I think about him, he's out there somewhere, saving a life or a whole planet, and in that second of his busy glorious hour, he thinks of me too. It's hard, it's terribly hard. I'll never forget him. Or that dance.

* * *

I think of that song quite often. I haven't listened to it since that night, but my memory serves me well with anguish at knowing every note and pitch. Out of every possible outcome and any available path during that night, and my brain and body buzzed from that dance. Sure, I've danced loads of times during my life. I have attended more parties, weddings, birthdays, and celebrations than any other being I've met. Well, besides the Face of Boe I suppose.

She comes to mind more times than I care to admit…aloud. And when I go off running and search for a place to hide, I reach for her hand still. Nearly anytime I told her to run, she did so. Almost every single shout of "hide" made her find a place to hunker down. But then again, not every time. I guess it's a reason why I liked her so much. I was always one to give orders to companions and gripe when they didn't listen, but honestly it gave me something else to do other than perform one task at a time; and she had always been a handful.

I remember that night like a movie playing in my head. I remember everything about that night. Most of all, I can recall every important detail in that room during that moment. The air had been stale and room felt decayed. The planes roared overhead and in the distance while whistles of bombs soared across the sky. Crashes echoed and smoke rose into the air and filtered through the spotlights piercing the night. Behind me were the people who had been mutated on the other side of the wall. My mind was busy while my sonic was trying to work the molecules in the iron bars of the only window in that room. I had no problems getting out of tight spots, but it had been a while since I had a companion, and I no longer had only myself to save. I was arguing and chastising myself when a song cut through the air.

Her voice rose slightly over the music and I turned to look at her. I almost smiled at her; she was swaying slightly to the music, but I could see the slight shyness in her body language. In just a second my mind played images of her dancing away without a care in the world as if it was the only thing she wanted to do. I couldn't dance, not with her. I shook my head and turned away.

She got my attention though, and before I knew it I was grabbing her hand and waist and pulling her closer. No, that's partially a lie. Sure, she had my attention, but it wasn't her asking if I didn't know how to dance that made me step down from the window, it was the fact that I did want to dance. I tried convincing myself it was only my telepathic abilities brushing against her thoughts, but that didn't last long. I admitted the truth to myself when she stepped closer to me and rested her cheek on my shoulder.

I could smell her shampoo rise and take the mustiness from the air. As I turned her I looked down to the side of her face and saw the firelight of another explosion light up her features; her lashes cast shadows down her cheeks, telling me her eyes were closed. The song though, somehow the song kept all that unwanted noise at bay and surrounded us. But the song was not keeping her fright at bay. I could feel her body tremble slightly and my hearts wanted to split at the sympathy I felt. She was too young to feel this scared, too young to feel her death was this close.

I pulled her closer to me, a silent gesture of reassurance, and squeezed her hand. I had put her in the situation, she was my responsibility, and I felt compelled to find a way to ease her fears. I didn't want her to fall in fear, if she was going to fall it would be into my arms so I could protect her as long as I could. So I held onto her. I held her close, listened to the music with the rhythm of our hearts, and turned slowly around the room in the almost-moonlight. I imagined us at a party, me wearing a sharp suit for the era and her on my arm with a brilliant outfit to dazzle the partygoers.

I was still thinking of us dancing around the floor in a better place when I realized we were no longer in that room. We had been saved. A man had made the impossible possible; he saved my life and hers, and I promised myself it would never happen again-I would save her if she needed it, no one else. That moment she left my arms I felt something fall over me and I told myself I would ask her to dance one more time, I would allow myself only one more dance with her.

It had been ages since I had danced really and actually enjoyed it. Never had I planned to dance again, but considering I hadn't planned on getting trapped in a room during the London Blitz, I figured it didn't really count. I counted the seconds from that dance until we were safely out of 1940 and shuffling around the console room. But that was the last time we danced.

She never asked me to dance again, but in a way I'm sure she was too shy. That had been the only time we had been in danger in a semi-safe place; all the other predicaments we found ourselves in required a lot of running and hiding-never again did a moment arise to consider dancing. I guess I could have asked her to dance whenever I wanted. But I think I feared rejection. No, that's not it. I know that's not the reason.

I wanted a real genuine memory. I do that from time to time; I have a moment and never reenact it so it will remain fresh and untainted and wonderful. That's what I did with that night. I didn't want to dance again because I wanted to remember everything about that moment with her. It's one of my favorites, honestly, and it will be hard to top in all my years to come.

Sometimes I wonder if she thinks of me. While I flee my hand reaches back for her, but deep down I know her hand won't grasp mine. I wonder if she ever reaches out involuntarily to find my hand as I do for hers. I wonder if she's danced since then; I haven't. I hope she hasn't because if she has, that means she's been scared and I haven't been there to ease her fears and dance with her again. And I haven't danced to ease anyone else's fears, because no one could be her.

I miss her standing beside me during a moment of glory as I save a species or help a planet. She gave me so much. That simply wonderful and brilliant yet irritating but lovely woman gave me, an old rambling man, more than I could ever have thought. I thank her, in my mind, every day for everything she had ever done for me. I miss her. It's hard, it's terribly hard. I'll never forget her. Or that dance.

* * *

Let's dance

Put on your red shoes and dance the blues

Let's dance

To the song they're playin' on the radio

Let's sway

While color lights up your face

Let's sway

Sway through the crowd to an empty space

If you say run, I'll run with you

If you say hide, we'll hide

Because my love for you

Would break my heart in two

If you should fall

Into my arms

And tremble like a flower

Let's dance

For fear your grace should fall

Let's dance

For fear tonight is all

Let's sway

You could look into my eyes

Let's sway

Under the moonlight,

This serious moonlight

If you say run, I'll run with you

If you say hide, we'll hide

Because my love for you

Would break my heart in two

If you should fall

Into my arms

And tremble like a flower

Let's dance

Put on your red shoes and dance the blues

Let's dance

To the song they're playin' on the radio

Let's sway

You could look into my eyes

Let's sway under the moonlight,

This serious moonlight

* * *

**A/N: Hey! Hope you liked it, sorry if you didn't though. If you're not familiar with the song, you must look it up on youtube or something, I adore it. You can leave a review or just keep on your way, no biggie. Thanks for stoppin' by!**


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